


they loved with sorrow as though to heal each other's wounds.

by dokuhai, kamishini



Category: Bleach
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, Major Character Injury, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Winter War (Bleach), and then dealing with what they did, rangiku is not here to fix or forgive him unless she decides that, she wants that and etc., we need more stories that involve villain characters surviving, we stan healing in all forms in this house
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:41:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26866096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dokuhai/pseuds/dokuhai, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamishini/pseuds/kamishini
Summary: Following the destruction and conflicts of the Winter War as well as Aizen’s eventual imprisonment, Gin and Rangiku must rebuild their relationship from the rubble of Gin’s betrayal and near-death. Facing obstacles of trust, Rangiku’s reputation amongst her peers, questions left unanswered, healing wounds, strict policing, and the judgment of the Seireitei - their bond’s ultimate test awaits.
Relationships: Ichimaru Gin/Matsumoto Rangiku
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	1. awakening

**Author's Note:**

> This work involves POV switching between Gin and Rangiku. This is co-authored by the lovely dokuhai, the Rangiku to my Gin.
> 
> I've never posted on AO3 before, let alone published a roleplay like this, so please be gentle with me!
> 
> -
> 
> A few months following Aizen’s sentence into Muken and Gin’s survival in the care of the Fourth Division, Rangiku’s search for answers can begin. Gin is finally home, alive, with her. The topic of why he did what he did hovers in the air, and Gin must now navigate his new chance in life alongside Rangiku with extra care. He has not been accepted back into the Gotei 13, however, he remains a candidate for his previous seat as Third Division captain while Yamamoto and the newly appointed Central 46 decide his fate. Weighing his punishment for defecting and aiding in Aizen's plot versus prolonging the alleviation of weaknesses left in the Gotei 13 by the vacant captain’s seats, Gin and Rangiku quietly await the verdict as they mend what was broken between them. With so much to address, how do they even start?

* * *

**GIN.**

* * *

Sunlight hadn't breached the horizon yet when Gin silently slipped away from the tangled mess of her — the heaviness of sleep hooked into his flesh, aching at every healing wound as if torn anew, and even still it couldn’t drag his body back down. Very few things could. A restlessness that had no name, not a sound — a nightmare forgotten, fading, tight lips, a furrowed brow, dry throat, glazed eyes watching particles of dust sway in a stream of moonlight, stale; he couldn’t move. He couldn't sleep.

Somewhere in Karakura Town his corpse still bled, and he couldn’t move. Even now, as slow steps dragged and carried him away from her — _he couldn’t move_. Not really, at least, he felt rooted in place, in feelings. 

Accustomed to the act of departure, Gin thought nothing of his warmth dying beside her and loomed into the dark kitchen. Sluggishness weighed in as he moved to recall where she stored her cups… something so trivial bothered him, how it slipped from his clouded mind. A combination of their belongings, more so of hers, surrounded him in a mixture of tidy and tattered throughout her — … _their_ — dwelling, parading the domesticity (fresh in the making) that she so desired. He tried for her, he was trying to fall into place; it was impossible to dismiss the unworthiness of it all.

Maybe someday he could live with himself.

Preparing tea did little to distract, the quiet task a muddled memory mere seconds afterward, autopilot. In his waiting Gin found within him a split desire; his body desperately wanted rest while his mind flew for the door, habitual. He settled for a compromise in the form of sitting just outside, faced the sky, and watched the brim gold of daylight begin chasing away darker blues, a warm drink in his remaining hand.

Any outsider would consider the moment peaceful — a victorious morning sunrise following a brutal war, and _guilt_ seeped deeper every moment Gin spent still suffering. Rangiku deserved a happy ending, not this broken excuse for one. But how undeserving he’d be, if peace ever finally found him, exceeded expression. Sulking didn’t fit well in the midst of celebrations, but neither did his bitterness.

What depressingly _bad_ company he’d make if Rangiku ever successfully dragged him out somewhere...

Footsteps, soft, and Gin straightened his posture slightly, prepared to get some earful on how early he must’ve risen in a sleepy voice.

"I woke up, and you were gone," Rangiku's voice, gentle, opposed his expectation. He was blindsided, struck with a realization of her own _nightmares_ following the war, and how his disappearance more than likely complimented them too nicely. Judging by the ebbing worry in her voice, his assumption wasn’t far off the mark. His smile was tired, painfully apologetic when he moved to glance over his shoulder and faced her to reply.

"Sorry, Rangiku, didn’t mean to _worry_ ya. Jus’ felt like sittin’ out here — do y’wanna join?"

He placed his drink down to instead pat the flooring beside him in invitation. With a pause, Gin sighed. "I’ll come back in a minute, I know it’s still real early for ya."

* * *

**RANGIKU.**

* * *

A steady beam of light pierced through the darkness surrounding her and danced across each digit —— her hand lifting, gracefully turning over to allow its warmth to spread across her palm. Rangiku could feel it, traveling up the span of her arm, and sweeping across the gentle curve of her cheek … how it _flickered_ in her eyes, pulling her away from the edges of oblivion. Strands of honey-colored hair shimmered like gold; alight, _reborn_ ——

… **_whole_ **.

It had come into existence like some aching memory. Trailing, delusive —— a _lie_ that one told in order to protect themselves from the truth. How safe it felt, to bask in the warmth of denial. As if he were still here … _as if he had never left_.

And yet, the warmth would leave her without reason or remorse for the hole it punched through her chest. The _ache_ of love lost would find her again; that soul-shattering darkness that engulfed her, taking away everything she had once believed to be true.

The cold against her shoulder seemed to last forever. Rangiku’s eyes were wet with tears once they finally flew open, her hands fumbling through the sheets as she sought him out. Caught between a fever dream and a night terror, Rangiku’s heartbeat quickened. Where had he gone?

 _Was he_ **_ever_ ** _really there?_

Oh, how quickly the little girl in her emerged — fearful that he would never come back; that Gin would leave her alone … left to fend for herself. Smooth, naked legs hooked around the edge of the bed before her feet pressed into panels of wood, the floorboards creaking underneath her shifting weight. Rangiku shrugged on her pink, silk kimono, tying it around her waist as she walked around the small dwelling in search of her lover.

When she _finally_ found him, their front door was wide open. The floral notes of his tea wafted through the air as he sat comfortably on the porch, facing the darkness before him. Rangiku’s voice was pained — a deep sadness lingering upon every syllable as she stepped closer to his tired form. She bit down softly on her lower lip, nursing it between her teeth as she fought pangs of concern … of worry.

Before she could respond to his invitation, Gin was sighing — reassuring her that he would come back to bed, with time. Rangiku quickly shook her head back and forth, her short locks of hair bouncing with each motion. " **—** **_No_ **, I’ll stay," she spoke quietly, taking it upon herself to sit beside him. 

For a long moment, Rangiku remained silent. Her palms pressed against the flooring behind her, her eyes closing as a breeze swept gently across her face. "It’s so peaceful," Rangiku whispered with a smile. One of her hands would eventually seek out his, only to intertwine their fingers, and squeeze. " … I can see why you’d want to come out here."

* * *

**GIN.**

* * *

Dawn had a chill to it, a crisp air, that Gin found sanctuary in. The cold calmed him, the breeze drew him from the depths and layers of his mind, making him focus outwardly onto more tangible things. A warm cup of tea, a quiet scenery, the rising sun, a sleepless night, a marred chest, a wrapped shoulder, an empty right sleeve of his yukata swaying, a phantom ache that lingered from a _nightmare_ , pai **—** _ah,_ **no** , he _wasn’t doing it right_.

Thankfully, the addition of Rangiku’s presence as she seated herself beside him greatly assisted in terms of diverting attention. She was draped in sleep and silk, beautiful and hazy, soft, a memory pulled from a lighter time when the weight of her gaze, her _pained_ love, couldn’t completely crush him. He wondered if time would ever rid her eyes of tragedy, or if she simply was meant to carry his mistakes in tandem with his heart.

As if carrying him from the brink of death hadn’t been enough **.**

They sat together, silent, for a breath.

Gin’s frame gradually lost tension, slow. Habits of withdrawing, of always stepping backward at any advancement from her, a hand outstretched **—** their fingers often did not meet until now, and even then Gin had to steady himself, dismiss himself from any recoiling. It took time and effort to counter his own ingrained mechanisms.

A conscious choice was made each time she watched him **—** to stop his rush to deliberately reel in any major signs of his turmoil to avoid her concern. Gin knew she was worried beyond belief about him. He knew his immediate gut reaction to quell her worries was to bury himself alive, and he wanted to do just that ... but he knew that it was _wrong_ to hide from her. He needed and wanted to be better, she needed him to be open.

Baby steps.

"It is," Gin replied, soft.

He hummed in agreement and focused on her hand, azure eyes appreciative of how she locked their fingers. The smooth surface across slender knuckles and a soft palm making the route of his thumb **—** he was idle in his mapping of her, the smallest venturing of their intertwined hands. Doing the opposite of pulling the hold apart, he squeezed back.

Gin threw himself at the small act of intimacy, into its open embrace of loud gestures, in hopes of silencing the urge to disconnect, retreat. Perhaps if he played along she’d hold him there _,_ anchor him. Again, he pulled for familiarity, a _smile_ (albeit weak, utterly exhausted) in the face of treacherously new territory.

"...did ya sleep alright?" _He didn’t ._


	2. compassion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gin and Rangiku continue to share a quiet moment together despite the inner turmoil that each of them carry deep within. Rangiku works tirelessly to rebuild her trust in Gin, however the questions he has left unanswered are always at the tip of her tongue. In spite of everything, Rangiku remains patient —- or at least, as patient as one might expect her to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work involves POV switching between Gin and Rangiku. This is co-authored by kamishini, the amazing Gin to my Rangiku. ♡  
> -
> 
> A few months following Aizen’s sentence into Muken and Gin’s survival in the care of the Fourth Division, Rangiku’s search for answers can begin. Gin is finally home, alive, with her. The topic of why he did what he did hovers in the air, and Gin must now navigate his new chance in life alongside Rangiku with extra care. He has not been accepted back into the Gotei 13, however, he remains a candidate for his previous seat as Third Division captain while Yamamoto and the newly appointed Central 46 decide his fate. Weighing his punishment for defecting and aiding in Aizen's plot versus prolonging the alleviation of weaknesses left in the Gotei 13 by the vacant captain’s seats, Gin and Rangiku quietly await the verdict as they mend what was broken between them. With so much to address, how do they even start?

* * *

**RANGIKU.**

* * *

Droplets of dew clung to each blade of grass before them, hanging peacefully in the early morning air as Soul Society remained silent _,_ _undisturbed_ by the flow of time, or the nightmares that kept both Gin and Rangiku haunted. Her eyes traced the stone path that led to their porch, only to eventually rest upon the shishi-odoshi that spilled water into their small brook. The sound of bamboo falling, only to rest against its counterpart was comforting —- for it pulled her away from her thoughts, and grounded her. 

Gin was alive … he was resting _right beside her_ , with a heart so heavy it made her want to cry. The gentle swipe of his thumb across her palm was reminiscent of a much simpler time —- one that was not weighed down by the consequences of his choices, and her lack of understanding. Even now, she remained in the dark … forever trying to catch up to him, to grab onto his coattails and beg him to **stay** —— to not be so _stubborn_. Despite the confusion she carried with her, day after day, she _knew_ now was not the time to ask him for answers. 

Part of her wondered if he would ever tell her on his own, without her inquisition.

When she finally met his gaze, she noticed the slight tinge of _blue_ beneath his eyes. The smile he wore was feigned , that much she could tell … and it hurt her, to see him like this. She would play along, however, _for his sake_ —— a light smile tugging at her lips as her eyes softened, looking back into his with only love.

"Sure… _I_ _missed_ _you_ , though," she spoke sweetly, before leaning to rest the side of her head on his shoulder. With a breath, Rangiku closed her eyes … taking a moment to enjoy his idle caress, and the warmth his presence provided her with. " ** _—-I’m here_** , you know … if you want to talk about it. _Whatever it is_ that’s keeping you awake." Her voice then dropped to a whisper —— her words heartfelt, and sincere. 

"I’m _here_ , Gin."

* * *

**GIN.**

* * *

There was an entire language in their silence, a tangible mute conversation, that allowed Gin to navigate her brewing questions quietly---- _he knew._ She had every right to demand answers, ask _why_ , and yet she didn’t. So far.

Gin knew better than to assume or expect that she was content in her patience with him, with this peace that bordered alongside emotional negligence to the pain that lingered between them. How avoidance threatened to taint what initially was masked as healing--more weight for their shoulders to bear. Every second she gave him was a _mercy_ , a gift (that would surely drain her in time) that Gin _never_ wanted to take advantage of--------let alone thought it was deserved _._ Still, he wouldn’t answer _that_ question. He couldn’t.

" _Missed_ me? I ain’t that far." He knew what she meant, wholly, and how much leaving the bed had resurfaced childhood-born wounds. But some old habits persisted, even when Gin felt his entire existence had been picked clean to the bone----a few traits of his, torn and tattered, covered the remains of him. His reply fit the scenario, cooperated with his muscle memory, but it was nowhere near as potent as he was in the past.

 _Going through the motions_ was a saying that held too much truth for comfort.

Absently, the concept of following up with “ _I’m not goin’ anywhere_ ” almost made it to his lips, but the mere heaviness it possessed, particularly for her, stopped him cold. The phrase sank back down his throat, thick, and he shifted his fingers within her hold once she leaned against his shoulder. **_She was here._ ** Appreciative, loving, hurting, he leaned his temple atop her head and sighed.

"--------........restless, " he picked his battles carefully, seeing how everything took energy he didn’t have, and Gin determined that _sleeplessness_ wasn’t worth diverting and evading----he could, at the very least, start there. "It’s mostly that feelin’."

* * *

**RANGIKU.**

* * *

Gin’s words did not bring her any comfort, for his distance from her was _far beyond_ what was tangible. Rangiku could still run her fingers through his hair — _press a kiss_ to his scarred flesh, or whisper words of affection into his ear — but Gin was _still_ so far away from her. Always out of reach.

Everything about him exuded sorrow, now; an angry sort of disappointment, of _**failure**_ , that spilled into each and every pause, every silence that fell between them. His playful, teasing aura had long since disappeared; all that was left of Gin was his ghost.

At least, that’s how it felt. Even as he leaned his head onto hers, resting comfortably against her, her heart felt heavy. _Could they get through this?_ Would he survive this life – the one that had been given to him, without his consent?

 _Did he_ _resent_ _her for saving him?_

 _Ahhh_ , these thoughts were becoming much too unbearable. All consuming and heavy, the weight of the world hung upon her shoulders. A sigh would slip from her lips as well; her eyes closing as her hand squeezed his.

"—Give it time," Rangiku hummed —- her voice quiet, _soft_ —- "You’ve always been so hard on yourself, fighting so many private wars … it doesn’t have to be that way, Gin. Just — … _let it go._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! We are very new to posting our writing here on AO3, especially in this format. You've all made us feel so welcome. ;w; While these chapters may appear somewhat short, we have a TON of content to get through when it comes to posting every reply back and forth from Gin and Rangiku. There is definitely more coming! We are aiming to post new chapters every week. :)


	3. stay

* * *

**GIN.**

* * *

The sentiment behind her words could do _nothing_ to lessen the blow, no matter her ignorance (his fault, he knew, and that alone _stung_ in its own ways) on the topic, and despite her ever-loving patience with him, the concept of her merely suggesting _letting go_ sent Gin into a tailspin in a tornado.

Who would he be without this wrath clutching at his throat and tongue, keeping his truths in a cage behind his ribs — what would he be when it finally left the shell of him? Could it even leave him without the hollowing of everything he knew of himself? Ransacking all that remained beyond his mangled revenge, unmaking. A re-birthing akin to fire igniting on a phoenix's feather, not a gasp of fresh air.... rather, the slow _agonizing_ burn of complete destruction. Would he then know peace with her or would their sorrows simply collect around them, a drowning pile of ash?

**_Let it go._ **

Gin didn’t know anything about that. He didn’t know  how to. And... he didn’t know if he truly  _wanted_ to.

"I’m thinkin’ it’s gonna take a _bit_ longer than a couple of weeks, Rangiku." Decades, probably — if he wanted to approach this at all realistically, the same amount of time spent mulling about his vengeance that caused so much of their pain had to be put forth to undo it all. Gin had close to a century’s worth poured into his path, burning scorch marks instead of footprints in his descent. Surviving through another trial seemed _impossible_ , exhausting, with his current state. Sleep-deprived and worn, any struggles rooted him to the floor, grounded.

Resentment was not present in his reflections of her saving him — instead, confusion, mostly... on what exactly she wanted to _achieve_ by pulling him from death’s grasp. Just how badly did she want this domestic life with him? Did Rangiku genuinely believe that one day he’d _snap out of it_ and the immense weight that followed his form would simply disintegrate? Like a curse lifted at true love's kiss? Perhaps she thought that they had even the slightest chance when she pulled him from the rubble... but Gin couldn’t see it.

She could always see good things that _weren’t there,_ after all.

* * *

**RANGIKU.**

* * *

How she could feel the man beside her **_recoil_** —— a mere result of her tactless, insensitive words. _Just let it go._ How _clumsy_ … how stupid, she had been. As if pretending she hadn’t _known_ about this private pursuit would somehow lessen the burden placed upon them, now … but it didn’t. It was _too late_ to stand in the way of a boy draped in black —— a cloak of necessary evils, of a darkness that would eventually smother so much of the light within him. 

For years, she had watched him disappear. From their _home_ , from her _bedroom window_ … from shinigami meetings and Gotei Thirteen parties. The _elusive_ Ichimaru Gin, always on his way toward something intangible … why didn’t she try harder to reach out? To get _through_ to him? 

What a coward, she was —— to not block the path of a boy whose cheek was stained with blood. Could she have stopped this, if she had been _braver?_ She didn’t know … and perhaps, she never would.

Their past had been written in permanent ink —— events that could no longer be altered for the sake of such pleasantries. Destiny knew _well_ of their tear-stained goodbyes; of the memories just as ugly as they were _beautiful_. 

… But what about their _ future?  _

Rangiku removed her hand from his, only to thread her fingers through his silver hair. The  _ lightest _ of touches —— as though he might disappear from her  **forever** . She would sit still,  _ quiet _ as she reflected on his words. After a few moments, Rangiku’s eyes would close … her nails raking  _ gently _ across his scalp, and her mouth forming a smile that would only serve to tug upon the mole beneath her lower lip. 

" …Let  **_me_ ** shoulder some of it, then," she whispered as her lips caressed his ear. Rangiku would press her forehead into the side of his face, before taking in a shallow, shaky breath. "You’re not alone in this, Gin …  _ Not anymore. _ "

* * *

**GIN.**

* * *

If _anything_ he did over the decades, all of the deceit and death, became even considered as the result of _Rangiku’s_ ignorance, not of his own flaws, then he had failed his most fundamental principle — first of all. And then the _very same argument_ could be used to redirect it back; Gin enforced her state of not knowing, _rigorously_ , to remove her from his _twisted_ plot, the betrayal, and bloodshed. She could _not_ be at fault no matter how she toiled over the beginning of his downfall —— it had been, in the end, **_his_** downfall.

The day he let her shoulder something he so _ deliberately _ kept from her would also be the signal of his final failure. Maybe it  _ would  _ happen, after all, in his gradual collapse of unlearning, of fighting the recoil even now as fingers smoothed through silver strands — maybe he’d do so in some  **_broken_ ** attempt at closing the gaps that she yearned to fill. She’d consider it a sign of  _ intimacy  _ up until the moment her heart shattered. To be  _ open _ about their past, their feelings, their thoughts and intentions... and to be promptly crushed in the same breath. Something about the sensation of heartbreak seemed to loom between them. Would they _ ever _ be rid of it, or did the bittersweet ache simply belong with them _always_?

_ "Let me shoulder some of it, then." _

"... I will ——" he paused in reply to her, allowing her words of encouragement, patience, _support_ , and **_love_** to soak in. There was no _unlocking door_ , no great revelation, or stream of light shining onto a forsaken shadow. Rangiku could speak good, _honest_ good, till her heart throbbed and her tongue became sore, but nothing would come of it until Gin _accepted it._ "—— go for a _walk_ , I think," he added whilst shifting away from her.

He stood, slow, sluggish still, and tucked away the hand Rangiku had relinquished within his sleeve. Words of retreat flowed _easier_ , the ghost of a smile reconstructing itself across weary lips, reborn if not for a moment — an act of indulgence in his old routine, that muscle memory. Creating distance with a smile was a dance Gin knew by heart, unlike the one Rangiku was attempting to lead. Healing, no, his footwork for that charade was in dire need of guidance.

"I didn’t earlier, didn’t wanna _scare ya_ when y’woke up." He lingered as if awaiting _dismissal_ , acknowledgment of the avoidance on clear display, and in quiet observation of her.

* * *

**RANGIKU.**

* * *

To assume that Rangiku had grown _accustomed_ to her lover placing such distance between them — _time_ and _time again —_ would’ve been absolutely ridiculous. Each and every moment she spent looking for him as a child, or watching the cold winds sweep up the fabric of his captain’s haori, felt like a betrayal. Once again, he would leave her hands cold; void of his warmth. The smile that fit her lips so beautifully would _falter_ as her heart began to shatter – as hope began to fade away.

There he was, dismissing her feelings –  _ her  _ **_love_ ** – yet again. All in favor of some wry smile, and a dark and lonely road with no particular destination. To build her up like this – to make her feel like, for  _ once _ , he would  _ let her in… _ – oh, how  **_infuriating_ ** he was! 

" _ — Gin _ ," Rangiku began, though no other words would follow for quite some time. Her fingers lingered in the air, as if they were still gripping his. How could he  _ do _ this? Hadn’t he grown tired of  _ running..? _

Her eyes held him captive, watching as the growing light of morning cast the sharper features of his face in shadow. How _handsome_ , he was – her _crumbling_ , broken shell of a man. As he stood there, awaiting some form of dismissal, all that Rangiku could do was imagine his lips against hers – her hands running across his skin, loving each and every inch of his war-torn body. How _frustrating_ it was, to be so angry … and yet, so _painfully_ in love. All she had ever wanted to do was lessen his _burden_ – even if only for a moment. But that was just another fever dream, _wasn’t it?_ The idea that he would _let her in…_

" _Don_ _’t_ _go…_ Please." Her voice began to crack, as if unable to bear the weight of her emotions any longer. Quickly she rose from the steps of their porch and reached out to grasp the fabric of his empty sleeve. 

" _ Please _ , just stay with me. Don’t push me away… —  _ not today _ ."

* * *

**GIN.**

* * *

Before, during such emotional encounters, Gin could _tear_ himself away from her without ripping a single seam — a clean cut, a ruthlessly _smooth_ detachment following the flowing fluidity of his haori. Simultaneously just _yesterday_ , and perhaps a **_decade_** ago, he could have done just that. However, Gin felt a cruel mixture of heaviness and nostalgia with the knowledge that he couldn’t perform that _flawless vanish_ anymore. He could not detach himself in a tidy manner when he now stood, in a constant unruly unraveling, utterly mangled before her. With such tangible tears, it was no wonder she was currently capable of grasping at the tattered strings of him to hold him in place — even if it was a temporary standstill — with that longing look she _always_ gave him.

While the act of _vanishing_ certainly had never been black and white — moreso his namesake, instead, for a lack of better description — Gin felt at a _loss_ now. No route stood out from the rest; each turn all had their tangled branches and winding roads into the woods. Part of him wondered if he’d feel the certainty of his chosen path _ever_ again, or if clarity had been exclusive to his self-destructive hatred. Lost, aimless, he went through the motions knowing the feeling would last (not _forever_ , deep down he knew it wouldn’t drag on _forever_ ) long enough, and that alone made his energies finite. Would _he_ last?

He supposed waiting for her _official_ dismissal had been a blessing and a curse — normally unnecessary, an unfamiliar gesture brought on by his hesitance, by a literal _lack_ of anywhere else to go, now allowed her to speak the words she typically would murmur to herself in futility once he’d left her. It also allowed him time to realize staying leaving made no difference. Could she tell that he had _no idea_ what he was doing with himself? This dance of theirs was drifting off-sync, and he wondered how much longer they’d keep this messy circling up until she finally snapped at him for _ruining —_... well, _everything_.

Not like he didn’t deserve a good yelling at , either.

Of course, of course, of _course_ he grew tired of running! Oh, a _very_ long time ago the whole ordeal began to completely _exhaust_ him, leaving him numbly wandering outskirts, empty streets; a sleepwalker trapped in consciousness. The same apathy, instinctive, rushed over him at the tug at his right, though it was _painfully_ paired with hyper-awareness following the emptiness of that sleeve — it was enough (her broken pleading, the heaviness, the jarring reminder of his wound, and her waiting glassy gaze) that he stopped and instead stepped forward to remedy the gap that caused her to reach out for him, albeit that single step towards her came with great effort. _H_ _e_ _was_ ** _trying_**.

Gin looked elsewhere, at the grains of wood that flowed through the floorboards of their porch, he looked at the greenery, drooping from excess rains, which surrounded the stone pathway leading beyond her humble home, leading away. _Not at her_. He couldn’t look at her, but he also couldn’t just leave her like the old days.

"Not today ," a quiet echo, an agreement, a relent, a  **_compromise_ ** .


	4. relenting

* * *

**RANGIKU.**

* * *

As Gin took that small, almost _fragile_ step towards her, Rangiku’s grip on his sleeve loosened, her manicured digits drifting slowly back down to her side. Never before had Gin remedied the gap that _he alone_ had created —- an unwanted distance that had always left Rangiku to her own devices.A knot formed tightly in her throat as she gazed at him through glassy blue eyes, her stare **vulnerable** , in search of his —- only to never find it. She watched as his chin tilted downward, the morning light resting humbly upon the tops of his cheeks as something akin to **shame** , or _grief_ , drifted across his once unreadable expression.

Rangiku took another step forward, seeking out his warmth as the morning chill left goosebumps across her flesh. Still clad in her silk robe, Rangiku pulled the material tighter across her chest before wrapping her arms around Gin’s torso. Golden locks of hair bounced around her face as she pressed her cheek to his chest, listening intently for his heartbeat. Silence surrounded them as her breaths _mimicked_ his own, each inhale matching the slow, steady expansion of his lungs. 

No words were needed here, in this moment; nothing could’ve been said to alleviate the tension between them, regardless —- or the pain that destiny had engulfed them in. Only time would heal these wounds, though Rangiku had _no idea_ how long it would take. Years? **_Centuries?_** Ah … all she knew was, without a shadow of a doubt, that she would be willing to wait. Loving Gin had _always_ been worth the risk of heartbreak —- and nothing could ever convince her otherwise.

Soft, _loving_ hands ran up and down Gin’s lower back, hoping to offer some sort of comfort as the light of morning left them utterly **exhausted**. "Let’s go back to bed," Rangiku hummed into his skin, pressing a gentle kiss to his exposed sternum _._ She then reached for his remaining hand, lacing their fingers together as a means of leading him back to their bedroom.

* * *

**GIN.**

* * *

He knew she was watching him, it was another part of that dance of theirs. Always looking on when the other seemingly wasn’t, but simultaneously mutually pretending they didn’t notice. How gazes would dart; an elaborate game of _hide and seek._ Maybe she would never fully find him--after all, he’d gone through such strenuous measures to bury himself, bit by bit, over the years. As she pulled closer to him, against him, though, he felt unearthed. Perhaps not fully, no, never completely… but enough that the dirt and grime and blood cleared from his airways, and he could breathe in against the top of her head, chin propped, till he submerged again.

When did this simple gesture gain so much weight? Gluttonous in their grief, Gin stood asleep in the heaviness, limbs tied with a ball and chain, he dragged this guilt by his ankle. Couldn’t he just take a _god damn_ hug? Spit out the pointless poetry, wash his mouth of all its waste, a thick poisonous script of _never get too close, never stay too long_ , and **embrace her too**. Could he, **_for once_** , pull himself together enough to _at least_ give her that? Stubbornly so, he remained within her hold, stilled, **_staying_** , and took each breath with the goal of waiting for the next to _pull away_ \----he’d wait until this next breath, then pull away ...again, waiting for the next exhale to detach... and again----... _waiting for the next_ \--------

A heartbeat that struggled to calm, to cease its tension and bated breaths, eventually steadied. Her fingernails running across the span of his back prompted _relief_ whilst also pressuring his hand to raise from its otherwise _limp_ (yet tense, knuckles near-white, pulsing, gradually pressing into the palm, his jaw mimicking--clenching) station at his side. Hesitant, he grazed up her back, eventually clutching at a fold of fabric between her shoulder blades.

 **_Sleepless_** , yet the concept of bed _exhausted_ him further. If Rangiku could just _knock him out_ for roughly eight weeks, that’d be preferred against laying, _pained_ , awareness heightened, awaiting a gradual descent into undesirable deeper thoughts. Could he go _comatose_ again? _That’d be ideal_. As fingers intertwined, Gin let himself trail behind with her guidance. He felt nostalgia akin to a sick day, as a child, and her motheringly demanding that he rest, leading him (or, more than likely, **_dragging_ ** him) to bed. Maybe that was all this was, in the end; a **_terrible_ ** sick day.

It was easy for him to lower back into their nest of blankets, and it was even easier to pull her down with him, burrowing tiredly to hide his bowed face in the curve of her collarbone.

 _"Hit me_ if I get outta this bed again," he meant to add a timeframe somewhere in there, but his murmuring stopped short, and _honestly..._ the concept of being **_smacked_ ** if he left the bed _at all,_ no limit, seemed more fitting anyway.

* * *

**RANGIKU.**

* * *

Grateful that there was no trap door, or emergency exit that Gin could _slither his way through_ while they took such slow, deliberate steps toward the bedroom, Rangiku couldn’t help but smile to herself. Perhaps this was progress, after all —— an attempt to _stay_ , while also an attempt to _open up_. 

Despite the very _real_ anger she harbored deep within (could he _see_ the shattered remains of her trust when he looked her in the eye? The ruins of their love; a bond once unbreakable, left utterly broken down _…_ ) Rangiku _knew_ he was trying. The turmoil he felt was almost **tangible** as he had held her outside —— his remaining fingers grazing up the length of her back, his touch a mere _whisper_ of what it had once been.

Rangiku made no effort to remove the silken robe from her body as they entered into the bedroom —— instead, she tightened the obi around her torso, and slid gingerly into place underneath the blankets that had once held her captive. Gin was quick to lower himself down with her, his silver hair caressing the skin of her neck as his breath _ghosted_ across her collarbone. Rangiku’s eyebrows raised inquisitively as he spoke —— she couldn’t help but wonder just how _serious_ he was. 

" _Hit_ you~?" Rangiku inquired, her voice low; _sultry_. Her fingernails danced across the back of his neck before trailing up his scalp. " _Hmm…_ the offer’s **tempting** , that’s for sure." A smirk situated itself upon her perfect lips, only to be pressed into the crown of his head.

"I don’t think you’d be able to handle _these hands…_ "

* * *

**GIN.**

* * *

The corpses his betrayal dropped did not simply end at his _own_ let alone the **_countless_** victims of his wrath alongside Aizen. The greatest death among them resided in the ravaged husk of her **_trust_** in him. Gin knew he had _no right_ to any forgiving aspects of her from the start, but the absence nonetheless was _haunting_. Would she ever look at him and _not_ feel hurt? Knowing himself, knowing both of their broken ways, Gin sincerely doubted it. He did this. He brought upon himself, upon her, **_more suffering_** than Aizen and his men could have hoped to inflict all those years ago.

They could go through the motions of the _better days,_ laugh, smile, they could even believe themselves as _healing_ , getting **_better_** , but they were both ghosts of their own personal murders. They wandered aimless, _bitter_ , resenting themselves and each other for nothing and _everything_ \----they’d walk through any wall but the thick fortress firmly placed between them.

Gin had _ruined_ them.

While lamenting that his deeds broke them, he simultaneously forbade himself----a constant consumption of his most previous emotion, churning and turning, devouring his tail, he continued cursing himself, relenting, then cursing himself for the mercy, then again for the lack thereof. He needed a good _strike_ to his face, to get knocked clean off his feet... given everything he stood for now was on the verge of collapse anyway, Rangiku wouldn’t have to try at all. She was ultimately wrong to bite her tongue, to hold her fist. Whatever patience prolonged her, Gin wondered if she was better off with him _breaking it_. Just _one more thing_ , right? He could be hated for it later, but she was **_long overdue_ ** for _unashamedly_ shouting at him, striking him----

"——I think I’ve **_earned_ ** a good _slap_ _,_ " a murmur, low, _serious_ in his offer. Though in respect of old habits a _sluggish smile_ crept across his lips, **_tired_** , unseen regardless thanks to his nuzzled position. He shakily sighed against her sternum, fingers curling aimlessly across her waist to eventually clutch her obi.

"... Jus’ _one_ , though, so you gotta make it count. See that I **_don’t_ ** handle’em."

* * *

**RANGIKU.**

* * *

Rangiku’s attempt to alleviate the tension between them had **failed** ; that, she was sure of. Cool lips _grazed_ along the skin of her neck as Gin spoke, a trail of goosebumps developing in the wake of each breath. Her fingers, once nestled in Gin’s hair, ceased their gentle ministrations across his scalp as that low, _serious_ energy filled the room. 

Looking up at the ceiling, Rangiku tried her best to consider his offer. A good _smack_ to the face would yield the instant gratification that her heart longed for —— but the **agony** of letting the words she so desperately _needed_ to say roll off of her tongue in conjunction with that _slap_ held her back. Rangiku nursed her bottom lip between her teeth as the pain of his betrayal (and, ultimately, the remnants of loss that lingered _even_ ** _after_** he had awakened from that comatose state) came _bubbling_ up to the surface.

Oh, how her heart **_burned_ **…

As Rangiku’s eyes rolled shut, she swallowed down the _searing_ pain that had risen back up into her throat, _constricting her_ —— threatening to **ruin** any semblance of progress they had made. _Now wasn’t the time_ … ah, but then again, would there _ever_ be an opportune moment to **_wreck_ ** the bond that they had been trying desperately to mend?

"I’m not going to _hit you_ , Gin —- though you know as well as _I_ do that you deserve it." Her voice filled the silence through a low murmur; her chest rising and falling with each breath. " _ **I can’t**_ —- not _now._ Because if I start… I won’t be able to stop. There’s just **_too much…_** "


	5. promise.

* * *

**GIN.**

* * *

There was no inkling of hope or even a _desire_ for redemption present in the now-thickened crevices of his throat, his panging chest. Gin didn’t expect a _damn thing_ , he knew better than her that he hadn’t earned the right to merely think about _earning_ forgiveness. Atonement set better within his ribcage; the prospect of cleansing his sins via _suffering_ , penance (lacking any implied nobility, self-importance and pity that often traveled alongside its narrative), felt better than expecting the ease of _acceptance_ , of thinking himself so _worthy_ as to waste her time rebuilding something he hadn’t deserved to have to begin with.

Gin wanted Rangiku to heal, yes, _of course_ , but he didn’t want her to do it in order for him to avoid the gravity of his mistakes. Honestly, _it would have been better if he had died_ . Maybe then she could have eventually _moved on_ . Now he sat with her, an embodied _cancer_ , eating away at her happiness like an unyielding tumor for several more decades.

He had initially planned to only speak about the ugly shadow in the room if she asked, if she ever sought him out on their ghosts, but he also _knew her —_ Rangiku didn’t want to _ruin_ any moment of rose-colored happiness, _peace_ , between them. Not now, after they bled and wept for so much. She’d rather bury her unrest while soaking in the fact that he was _staying_ with her. Some parts of him wanted to play along, to let it begin to feel natural again... or somewhere close to it if he couldn’t find himself capable anymore. But, another part of him disliked the concept of her moving at her signature pausing pace, festering, drinking away.

Fingers grazed along her hip, whimsical in their searching, tracing, a _sad_ pattern made its way across her lower back and traveled up her spine — she used to melt into his hands, so eager and delighted that he was initiating an intimate moment, and now he instinctively offered a rare touch as if it’d help. Was he doing the right thing, bringing this up? Should he have left it, should he just let her _cope_ with the mess he made in her own way? Was he even capable of doing a _single thing right_?

“I know,” ...a short reply following bated breaths moments after her confession, barely audible. Not meant to stifle her, rather, in agreement with the amount of bullshit they needed to swim through. It was only appropriate that he, for the second time since his entire plot unfolded, _sincerely_ expressed his regret for the hurt she felt.

“ **_I’m sorry_ ** _._ ”

* * *

**RANGIKU.**

* * *

Tears welled up in Rangiku’s eyes as Gin’s apology sank into her skin. Each quiet, shaky exhale he breathed out felt _warm_ against her throat —— oh, how his lips were hovering _so close_ to her pulse as it quickened. The fingers that danced along the curve of her body seemingly _missed_ the swollen heart that resided underneath, threatening to burst deep within her, revealing the ugly truth behind such a _peaceful_ moment. For the first time this evening ( or was it _morning_ , already? Rangiku was no longer certain—- ) she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

How quickly the _little white lies_ had built up over the weeks surrounding his recovery. Rangiku couldn’t help but feel buried underneath the weight of it all. How many times had she _avoided_ questioning his actions, in favor of this reunion —— _making love_ to his war-torn flesh, attempting to breathe _life_ back into him after his failure left him wounded in more ways than one? She had been so quick to nurse him back to health, that she had forgotten to take care of _herself…_

Her body began to shake as the tears finally fell, her fingers _fumbling_ to wipe away any shred of weakness. Suddenly, she was hyper-aware of Gin’s proximity —— he was not revealing remorse while fading away from her vision, this time, nor was the life _draining_ from his dying form _——_ he was _here_ , now; holding her close, and _staying_ , despite wanting so desperately to _leave_.

Sobs wracked her body as the morning sun began to peek into their quiet home, sprawling out over the tangled mess of their bed. She wanted _so much_ to forget that he had ever betrayed her, and yet the lack of trust was present in every thought she had. Could they recover from this? Could _she_ recover from this…?

" _—-Why,_ Gin?" Rangiku shuddered against him, _loosening_ her vice-like grip. Her eyes opened to reveal such a glassy, _heart-wrenching_ blue hue. "Why can’t you just tell me…?"

* * *

**GIN.**

* * *

As the shuddering sobs began to shake her against him Gin shifted at his hiding spot among golden curls and the smooth trail of her neck. As usual, as with every negative damn thing, she was trying to hold it in. At least to some degree, which made matters worse. He experienced many heartbreaking moments doused in Rangiku’s tears, but he wasn’t numbed to it by far —— with each tear came a haunting reminder, a responsibility; the days of the Rukongai, where each sobbing spell attributed to her emptiness following the assault, were long gone. Now was the era of his damage to her.

It was vaguely difficult for him to situate himself as he wished with a heavy emptiness at his right, a tangled vacant sleeve within sprawls of sheets worked more as an anchor keeping him in place of how he initially fell into bed with her. Moving required more effort than he desired to exert, a pang of discomfort, and Gin became hyper-aware of any attention his awkward maneuvering could bring. Nevertheless, he settled face to face with her, a deliberate swallowing of her crying state; he wouldn’t shy away from the sorrow he caused. He couldn’t.

She was allowed to cry, he wouldn’t shame her for it or attempt to silence her from it in some avoidance-masked-as-compassion ordeal —— but at the end of the day her cries still broke his heart. The least he could do was stay with her, hold her, and see it through.

“...I will,” a _soft_ reply left his lips, thoughts churning past the thickness of his throat. Fingers left her shoulders in favor of grazing across a wet cheek, thumb tracing what her own _desperately_ wanted to wipe away. She needed to take deep breaths, close her eyes, and calm herself — otherwise, he feared she’d have an utter _breakdown_. Lightly, Gin swept under her eyes, gentle in the motion, and leaned in to press his mouth to her forehead.

“I will, Rangiku —— but not here, not like this.”

Giving her an answer was hard enough — even if an indirect, or not pertaining _exactly_ to what she asked him. He didn’t know where and when would be the right time to tell her anything and if that ‘right’ moment would ever actually even exist for them, but he had to think he’d tell her what she so strongly wished to know eventually. Not yet, not soon, or perhaps in the next five minutes, or a year — not _now_ , but _then_.

* * *

**RANGIKU.**

* * *

Rangiku closed her eyes as tears began to trail down her cheeks, eventually settling along the curve of her chin. She had spent so long running from these questions out of fear of losing him again — a bad habit she had formed as a child, only to evolve into some vicious cycle that now relied on alcoholism as a coping mechanism. It was so hard for her to open up to him, now, let alone show weakness — wasn’t Gin the one who needed that strong, sturdy shoulder of hers to lean on as he recovered? Wasn’t it selfish of her to bombard him with these doubts — these fears — when he barely had any desire to get up out of bed?

Her eyelashes felt wet as she screwed her eyes shut, intent on calming herself down. _Breathe in,_ _breathe out_ — breaking down would do _neither_ of them any good. She could feel Gin’s thumb sweeping across her face, collecting any trace of despair that had slipped past her delicate façade. A shaky breath left her lips as he offered her comfort — some semblance of _hope_ , after she had finally accepted such a painful defeat. Was she even capable of hoping, anymore? Rangiku swallowed thickly as Gin kissed her forehead, her eyes opening to greet his as the promise of an eventual answer left his lips. Her pulse quickened as her hands traveled to his shoulders, fingers nestling between layers of warm fabric.

Gin’s breath was _warm_ across her skin — _soothing_ , even, as she sniffed in and attempted a smile. A promise … an _explanation!_ Would that be _enough_ for her to be able to trust him again? Perhaps not — but at least it was something for her to hold onto.

“ _Okay,_ ” she breathed, her voice hoarse as she strained to respond to his words. Rangiku was quick to bury her face into his shoulder, nodding eagerly as _acceptance_ found its way into her heart. " _— Okay_. Thank you, Gin.” Her lips pressed a slow, loving kiss into the crook of his neck as her arms tightened around him, desperately wishing she would never have to let him go.

* * *

**GIN.**

* * *

He could have passed their entire exchange off as a murky (sleep-deprived) _fever-inspired dream_ , _distraught_ , heavy with his limbs. He felt sickly to the core, drowsy with chains, **_drowning_**... were it not for the brutality in which he was aware of himself. Whilst soothing touches traced his shoulders, he still maintained an aching reminder flaring at his right, an added discomfort among their makeshift breakdown within the messy bed they shared. So far he hid his grimaces well, they were fleeting to begin with _—_ _—_ he didn’t want Rangiku to notice, he could burrow his face into her and steady himself, breathe her in, and ignore it all better that way.

Exhausted, yet restless, haunted, he drew a deeper breath in response to her. He knew she was currently tying herself to that promise, wrapping herself up to the tallest point of the pyre to await his torch of truth, grounding herself to the concept of openness--to finally hear the story Gin wanted to bury with himself. Even now, even with his odd mixture of clarity prevailing, he felt absolutely _terrible_ for giving her that promise. But he couldn’t hide from her any longer, he couldn’t pretend. He felt like shit either way. This, as well as avoidance, didn’t work as any sort of solution.

He hadn’t promised her in hopes of silencing, in hopes of fixing anything _—_ _—_ but it still hurt to feel the same amount of emptiness, numbness, as before... considering how the decades of biting his tongue at the tearful whispers of ‘why’ should have swelled into his throat and choked him for his deviating promise. The only thing that felt changed in him was now he had to figure out _how to start that eventual now utterly_ _inevitable sentence._

“ — y’ _really_ shouldn’t be thankin’ me.” He had to start there, to speak again with any topic other than what he just caved into. Yet still, everything felt wrong. Sinking, a sort of dread in his chest as the seconds ticked by _—_ if she asked him for that promised speech tomorrow he might just end up getting sick. But he calmed himself, grounded himself, reeling with the mark of penance. _It was not ‘penance’ if he fell with ease._ Gin needed to fall hard.

It wasn’t Rangiku’s job to pick him up and put him back together. 

At the rate he was going, though, Gin felt more inclined to pass out for three days straight rather than put himself together. Blacking out for a week via disassociation technically counted as Rangiku’s prized “self-care” and rest, right? _Ahh..._

“I know you’ve been skippin’ out on a lotta work lately _—_ _—_ babysittin’ me ‘n all _—_ _—_ ” a softer voice, a weak smile. He pulled himself together, temporary, messily, yet composed. She needed him to lead, to guide them both, because _how could he expect her to know what to do_ , how could he even remotely lean on her to pull forward when he was the one that _absolutely destroyed her,_ her ability to move on. Slender fingers parted at wavy strands, gently brushing, idle in his thoughts. Reassuring. **_Comforting_ ** . “... but you should _skip out_ for one more day, hm? Get some drinks, get it aaaallll outta our systems... how’s that?”


	6. obstacles

* * *

**RANGIKU.**

* * *

Gin’s words —- even though they were pained (she hadn’t missed that roughened swallow; his adam’s apple bobbing with the motion as her lips trailed across the fragile skin of his neck) —- were _just enough_ to stifle the storm that raged within Rangiku’s troubled mind. Perhaps he was right … she _shouldn’t_ have been thanking him. But when had any part of their relationship ever felt so cut and dry? So black and white … No, they **lived** in the grey areas of wrong and right, of innocence and of guilt. The rules had _never_ applied to them —- not even in their youth. And _now…?_ Now, Rangiku was just happy to hear his voice, and to hold him again (or whatever was _left_ of him) in her arms.

"—-You’ve never been any _good_ at hearing those words, much less accepting them," she hummed, a small smile tugging at her lips whilst she buried her face in him. _There he was_ ; the man she had fallen in love with, all of those years ago. Always shying away from the spotlight, from _too much attention_ … he would rather bear the weight of the world than hear her whispered words of affection; of gratefulness. "A promise from **you** is something that’s worth every ounce of gratitude. So again… _thank you_."

Her eyes, though glassy, were full of love when she finally met his. She would push those dark thoughts out of her mind, once more —- however, _this_ time around she **knew** that Gin would tell her the truth. He had promised … and Rangiku _trusted_ _him_ , despite any reasoning from her friends, or comrades in arms. She had to… otherwise how would they ever begin to repair what he had broken?

Birds began to sing outside their window as dawn settled within the skies above, pulling shades of blue from the subtle pinks and yellows that had once kissed the light of the moon. The sun was rising, now, and soon to follow would be the rest of Soul Society. As Gin parted wavy strands of her hair and spoke about another day of avoiding responsibilities, Rangiku was _more_ than eager to oblige him. "Wait, did I hear that right…? You want to get _drinks?_ With _me…?_ " Rangiku’s eyes lit up with anticipation, even as her tone remained calm; composed . "—-I’d be a fool to say no to **_that_**. I can’t even remember the last time I went out for sake…"

Had it truly been that long? Oh, how quickly time had passed since the end of the Winter War. "How about we bring some back here? We could stay in… spend some more time together. No need to go out to some bar," _especially since the majority of the Gotei Thirteen still considered Gin to be a traitor…_ "—I’d rather it be just the two of us, anyway."

* * *

**GIN.**

* * *

"I think we can agree that I ain’t too good at _a lot_ of things," Gin hummed in an equal softness, responsive to her low rumble against his collarbone, the trailing of her nuzzling endeavors prompting his fingers to seek her further----dragging lazily up the length of her back, then down once more--circling, slow. She could bury herself against him, hide her face, breathe him in... and it’d assist him in doing the same. Lips gently ghosted atop her head and azure eyes glazed at the foggy perspective of stray strands, the blurred blankets around them fading from focus as his gaze went emptily elsewhere.

He blinked away the haze, however, once she shifted to stubbornly thank him (regardless of his _unworthy_ status) with her shimmering stare and a soft smile. He attempted to mimic her, instinctive, with the slightest tug of his lips.

A response to her thanks struggled behind his teeth, then slowly died in silence.

Gin made no promises _lightly_ \----a trait of honor which happened to also be the main contributor to his current _dread_. He had **promised** her, out loud, to her face... now he couldn’t go back on it, he couldn’t delay it much longer. In perhaps a month’s time or less, Gin would divulge the truth to Rangiku in full. She could sleep easy in trusting his word to be kept, in her questions finally being answered. That was what his promise meant; no loopholes, no lies, no takebacks. He owed her this one, he _owed her this one_. The last vow he made hadn’t panned out, it brought instead everlasting pain and distance, _damage_ , between them. And **_he owed her this one, fulfilled._ **

They both needed a relinquishment, even if temporary, of the tensions they were currently attempting to keep at bay--pretending their conversation didn’t hold a crushing weight was starting to exhaust him more than he anticipated, and Gin felt wholly trapped by his own devices. He really had _no fucking clue what to do with himself_ \----walking with her to some shop down the street, or maybe a shop across the entire Seireitei... **fresh air** , ah, that could _help_ , possibly, in how his breathing felt so _labored_. As if a few bottles of sake could take away from their troubles------it was silly, _stupidly hopeful_ and naive, but Gin found its allure and the nostalgia of the proposition too good to not suggest. Nights they’d sneak out together, and nights of her being carried home or stumbling together, young, **_laughing_** , _weightless..._

Ah, there she **brightened** \--so he made the right call, after all. Then again... the day Matsumoto Rangiku willingly _refused_ or otherwise turned away the concept of drinking, skipping out on her work, would be the day Gin truly would **_despair_ ** at the loss of her. He shifted against her, situating himself to straighten into a seated position, energies redirecting towards the soon approaching task of _dressing himself_ for their stroll. But first? A widened smile, slight but still _there,_ and he danced with his possible responses to her. A ‘no, Rangiku, I’d like to get drinks with _someone else_ ,’ worked as a dull **_daydream_ ** of a reply, but all skeletons of witty words turned to ash on his tongue, sealed behind lips that could only convey a smaller smile slipping, **_tired, so tired._ **

"----------bringin’ it back here’s fine with me, but I don’t wantcha stayin’ _cooped up_ with me for _forever_ \----after today, y’should see about checkin’ with some of your **_friends._** " Gin began to pull away from her, but not in retreat, whilst he spoke. Unless Rangiku wanted to walk around in sleepwear (Gin doubted any passerby would _complain_ about that) they’d need to spruce up a little before heading out.

"Deal?" She needed to go out more on her own, sticking with him surely had its _tolls_.

* * *

**RANGIKU.**

* * *

Rangiku watched as Gin pulled away, his shoulders tightening, drawing inward whilst he attempted to sit up within their mess of heavy blankets and sheets. She had to stop herself from reaching out _once more_ —- the urge to run her fingers through his hair, to trace the sharp features of his face —- _to hold onto him,_ as though he might disappear if she were to ever detach from his person again. Learning to let go of those fears was an everyday task; a cycle that supplied her with a heavy heart and a sharp _stinging_ sensation behind her eyes, every time she so much as blinked.

 ****He had a point, _really_ —- about wanting her to go out alone, or with friends. Rangiku was spending all of her time with him lately, _fussing_ over him, putting off responsibilities and work just to make sure he was okay. But the idea of spending time with friends was almost laughable to her, right now. What **_good_** would that do for _either_ of them? The majority of people she cared about were furious with her for taking the fallen traitor back into her life. A mixture of worry, fear, _anger_ —- all emotions that Rangiku would feel towards herself, too, if the roles had been reversed. Going out with Shuuhei, or Izuru —- or even worse, _Nanao_ (Rangiku didn’t even need to spend time with the other lieutenant to _know_ that she was **_judging_** her every choice as of late) would result in a **bombardment** of prying questions and worried gazes. What fun could ANY of them possibly have in Rangiku’s company by continuing to ignore the elephant in the room?

 ****" _—-Deal_ ," Rangiku replied quite dryly, donning a fake smile in hopes that Gin would drop the topic entirely upon her agreement. Perhaps she would try reaching out to some of the others, after all … ah, but **_not right now_**. All that she wanted to do was to lose herself in a drunken haze beside him.

 ****Rangiku was **quick** to hop out of the bed and dig through her wardrobe whilst in search of a more _decent_ outfit for strolling around Seireitei. It was not unheard of for Rangiku to show up at a liquor store the moment in which they opened, so at least she didn’t have to worry about that. In any case, the night had carried into the day so swiftly, that she barely had any concept of time to begin with. Drinking at 7 in the morning without remorse? Who **_better_ **to partake in such an unhealthy activity?

 ****Her uniform would work, _for now_ —- it was better for her to be seen in her shihakushō, anyway, _especially_ since she had been skipping so much of her responsibilities. At least she could be seen _somewhat_ near her barracks, sporting her badge as the lieutenant of the tenth division. Even if the title felt **inappropriate** , given her lack of attentiveness to the Gotei lately. 

Shrugging the loose silk of her robe off of her slender shoulders, Rangiku proceeded to dress herself at a normal pace —- however, upon looking back at her lover, she realized that what was normal for her was _frustratingly_ quick for someone who struggled as much as Gin. With a gentle smile, Rangiku approached him, swatting away his hand in favor of helping him tie his obi around his waist.

" _…You’re so handsome_ , Gin," Rangiku hummed, her voice low as her eyes met with his. "I think some fresh air will do us both some good. When was the last time you left the house, anyway? _I honestly can’t remember._ "

* * *

**GIN.**

* * *

Time passed by differently when one lingered within the fog of their own mind, aimless thoughts devoured seconds, minutes, _hours._ Whilst attentive, to the largest extent that he could currently muster, Gin indeed fell victim to the **_loss of time._ ** Awareness, wakefulness---lacking such things, perhaps... he was drifting too much into thoughts he couldn’t focus in on, blurred like breath onto a mirror’s reflection. The more he tried to wipe away that clinging mist, the more the image he sought seemed to shift across the glassy surface, streaking fingerprints, dripping water, and another surge to overtake his attempt.

Most days, Gin simply _succumbed_ to the dull unawareness, the distant daydreams and numb sensation of standing within a room he’d just entered----not knowing why, or for how long he had been blankly looming. It took bountiful energy for the ex-traitor to resist doing so during the night... and giving Rangiku a _heart attack_ whether by her unsuspecting late-night drink of water (and rounding the corner to see him) or by her anxiety’s default setting upon awaking without him; that he left her, that he was never there to begin with------ _he knew her fears._ No matter his _exhaustion_ , his feelings thrown asunder, he’d not so carelessly trigger spiraling despair upon her **_again_**. 

Once was plenty enough.

Gin knew her fears, and he also knew when her smile was fake------ ** _TAKES ONE TO KNOW ONE._** Did she really think that’d work ? She was lucky Gin had no desire to confront her, to cause her further burden by pushing where he needn’t pester, prod, wholly _undeserving_ to dare presume he knew what was _best_ to maintain her strained friendships... (what _friendships_ did he have... other than the bitterly placed bond brutally severed, locked beneath their feet somewhere around the First Division---- _unthinkable_ , yet still potently **there** , and _all that he knew_ \------or his Lieutenant, who could not even manage to look at him, let alone speak, given the grievous wounds his betrayal had dealt) ... he would relent to her show of a smile because _he’d be such a fucking hypocrite_ if he thought for one second that her forced smile was to be pursued when he so frequently persisted with his own, unquestioned, **_avoidant._**

He’d relent, and turn to begin the _tedious_ task of changing whilst she dug through her wardrobe. Several days worth of trial and error thus far brought him to a messy near-success, a silent sort of suffering for Gin as he grappled with his disability, his lack of autonomy. Rangiku hadn’t even allowed him to figure out how to approach her for _help_ \----like then, she now intervened. She picked the outfit for him, some time ago--------yukata were easier, simple. Ah, maybe he’d try preemptively tying the obi, rigging it somehow like those old rabbit string-traps, for his next attempt of dressing himself alone. For today, however, _Rangiku’s final touch was appreciated immensely._ But he still planned to let out a little whine, soft, _pouted_ , with how she intended to swat his hand away.

He frowned further, exaggerated, once she began her _flirting._

"Butterin’ me up with nothin’ but ** _lies_** ," a weak scoff, half-playful, whilst his gaze turned avoidant of hers. Gin eventually peeled away from her. "Y’say that like it’s **bad** that I’m stayin’------ _be careful whatcha wish for,_ eh?" now, it was _his_ turn to smile despite not feeling its mirth. Stepping into his sandals, Gin shot a grin her way----shedding layers of isolation with each step he took past their sanctuary’s threshold. She could watch him subtly transform from the man alone with her, tame, into a slight sharpness. Gin still had not dissected himself of his villainous aura, the echoes of his role as the Gotei 13′s opposition surged beneath the surface of him (once undeniably _soft_ in her exclusive presence) and he did not dare show such _vulnerability_ in the eyes of any sneering passerby. He would face them as _Ichimaru Gin_ , not as her lover.

They had chosen peak travel time to take their journey through the streets of Soul Society. Trickling at first, only very few in their path visibly retreated or parted to accommodate their steps. But as crowds became more than just two or three passing bodies, Gin noticed a distinct diverting taking place around them------ _him_ \--------accompanied quickly, quietly with whispers. Maybe... it _had_ been a while... since he left her quarters. Gin swiftly remembered one of the main contributing factors as to why as hushed tones of suspicion, **disgust** , filled the morning air. Nothing did quite strike his heart, though, and with chin tipped level, grin _calm_ , Gin knew he could weather it. **JUST LIKE HE DID BEFORE.**

Gin was tired, but he was not so tired as to _forget his facade._

He could not, however, even begin to ignore the unmistakable comment, colored by a _slur,_ targeted not at him... rather, at **_Rangiku_ ** by his side------------that made him abruptly **stop cold** in his tracks--------

* * *

**RANGIKU.**

* * *

It was hard for Rangiku to even consider the fact that Gin found himself undesirable **.** Perhaps his words were only meant to _tease_ —- to deflect the attention away from himself (a skill he had **perfected** _so long ago_.) But _maybe_ —- and deep down, Rangiku unfortunately knew it to be true —- _maybe_ , Gin truly did despise himself, now. From his war-torn body to the choices he had made, that he had been forced to dwell upon after such a swift defeat … _mmmn_. How many times had she pulled him back from the brink?

She could only hope that Gin would divulge the information he kept from her (the secrets that, ultimately, would free him from the shackles he forced upon himself) sooner, rather than later. Perhaps then, Gin could TRULY begin to heal. Either way, a pout formed upon her lips as he chose to _scoff_ at her compliment. The next few words that fell out of his mouth hit a bit too close to home for her as well, however Rangiku chose to ignore them despite her lover’s blatant grin. The rolling of her eyes would be enough of a reply as she continued to put on her socks and sandals, and follow him through the threshold of their home and out towards the judgmental stares of those who inhabited Seireitei.

Rangiku took a deep breath as they began their journey. She watched as his posture straightened out, for the first time in days. The aura shifted as confidence made its way back into his body, and as a smile began to rest comfortably upon his face. It was like watching him put on a **mask** —- a mere reminder of what he was capable of, and who he had become … or, perhaps, _who he had_ ** _always_** _been_ , deep down —- outside of her own understanding.

 _'Fresh air will do us both some good,'_ Rangiku had said only moments prior. And while she knew that the crisp air and subtle breeze would help to breathe life back into them both, she also knew the potential repercussions of such a walk out in the public eye. It was the _elephant in the room_ , once again —- the knowledge that she harbored a **traitor** in her home —- a man who had committed treason and murder with a grin spread wide across his face. Mumbles of ‘ _how does she live with herself?_ ’ echoed throughout the halls of her own division, along with some _nasty_ rumors that her captain was constantly dispelling (despite his OWN apprehension, much less, and the **anger** he felt towards her as of late). Rangiku had _heard_ the whispers; she had _felt_ their condemning stares … ah, _but_ —- she had never been standing next to Gin when those scathing remarks filled the air.

 **_'TRAITOROUS WHORE.’_ ** The man’s words were as clear as day, practically _yelled_ into the crowd. Of course, this wasn’t the first time Rangiku had heard such a comment —- she was used to it by now, no longer weighed down by the feelings that surrounded such a slur. But she certainly felt the air _shift_ … and the spike in reiatsu beside her, despite the seal that stopped Gin from resembling the _monster_ he had once been, in the midst of the Winter War. Panic began to spread as Gin stopped walking. _Was he about to make a scene..?_

" ** _—-Gin,_** _it’s not worth it!_ " Rangiku whispered with urgency as her fingers moved to wrap around his remaining arm. Her voice was stern _,_ and **serious** despite lacking volume. She then took a step forward, preparing to body-block him if it meant preventing an altercation that could seriously put him in trouble. " _I only just got you back_ —- **_please_** , PLEASE don’t put yourself in a position that could threaten your parole!"

**Author's Note:**

> :^)


End file.
